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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27854382">Hide a Different Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie9646/pseuds/Charlie9646'>Charlie9646</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, Creatures, Depression, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Kissing, Mental Health Issues, Post War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Severus Snape Lives, Transgender, Trauma, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela Fleur Delacour</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:41:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27854382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie9646/pseuds/Charlie9646</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy was proud of his name, his family and his blood status. </p><p>He wasn’t proud of this though not by a long shot. The Black family it seemed had a secret one that they tried their very best to keep. He wasn’t even supposed to be this, thing, and yet he was. </p><p>It was a rather long story of why it was even possible and truth be told he would prefer not having to tell it. </p><p>Sometimes we have to simply do our best with the cards we were dealt.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Narcissa Malfoy/Lucius Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>2020 Dramione 50k Classic</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you to my alpha and/or beta for their time and help.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fleur Weasley was many things, Curse Breaker, wife, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and a graduate of Beauxbatons. Long ago a Triwizard champion and one day soon she would be a mother. However, there was a secret among her family. One that they only whispered about. It haunted them for as long as any member -living or dead - could remember. </p><p> </p><p>The Delacour family were part Veela and some of them would be forced to bear the curse of being one. Families like hers had long ago intermarried with the species due to their great beauty and power. They were cunning and wicked creatures of infallible beauty. </p><p> </p><p>They, on the other hand, intermarried with wizards for protection. Back then the world kept getting smaller, leaving them with no place to hide, so they did so in plain sight. Walking a narrow line of sorts - desperate to keep their magic - as well as their safety. Their magic understood this, giving them one last thing before the last pure Veela took her last breath, and in doing so making sure they would never fully die off.  </p><p> </p><p>All the male children of these creatures were like their fathers - as were most of the females. Most of the children were like their fathers, besides a few unlucky ones were cursed or gifted depending on how you looked at it. They became something else. They would be like their foremothers, they too would be Veelas. They would carry the heritage through time. It was like a song people had forgotten most of the words to, but was still sung all the same. </p><p> </p><p>Gifted with great power but also with great shame. </p><p> </p><p>Fleur was many things, but as her brother-in-law Percy had unsettlingly put it at her own freaking wedding mind you: She was in fact a <em> halfbreed. </em></p><p> </p><p>Yesterday, as she was eating her breakfast, an eagle owl tapped on the kitchen window at Shell Cottage. Its beak made a sharp noise that made her want to cover her ears and grind her teeth. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Surely it was from Molly or her own mother who planned on visiting, now that it was safe to do so. However it wasn’t from either woman. It was from Severus Snape. </p><p> </p><p>The former Death Eater, a fellow Order member, and wizard who made it clear he would be leaving this bloody island as soon as he was allowed to. The very thought of his mutters made her want to roll her eyes. The man might be one of <em> them </em> , but that mostly had to do with how much he cared for Lily Potter, not much else when it came down to it. The letter said in his tight clean script, <em> Draco is a Veela and he needs your help.  </em></p><p> </p><p>That changed things. The Malfoys were like vipers twisted and dangerous creatures, but a Veela was a Veela. It was her duty to help another of her kind. It seems the Malfoy family had another secret. One that Voldemort himself didn’t possibly even know. </p><p> </p><p>Louis, her brother, was in a similar <em> situation. </em>She knew that she should try to send him another letter even if the last one was returned unopened. Her brother wanted nothing to do with his family. Nothing to do with how his family made him feel. </p><p> </p><p>So that was why she was here following Snape and a guard in the Ministry’s holding cells, with Bill trailing behind them. The latter kept letting out a rather beast-like snarl at any Death Eater they passed who dared to reach for her. Instead of being frustrated it made her feel safe even if she didn’t need him to protect her. The former Headmaster had survived the war by the skin of his teeth. Lucky that Kingsley had found him bleeding out on the floor of the Shrieking Shack and decided that no matter what he had done no one deserved to die like that. The rest was history as they say.</p><p> </p><p>Her husband’s snide comments on the other hand...</p><p> </p><p>“Why are we even here?” Bill asked, grumbling as he did so. </p><p> </p><p>“Because Harry trusts him,” Fleur muttered, pointing her finger at Severus, enunciating Harry’s name to make it sound more English. “You didn’t have to come with me if you would have preferred not to.”</p><p> </p><p>“And leave you in a pit of vipers on your own?” Her husband questioned, adding, “that would be utterly foolish.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can protect myself, thank you very much,” Fleur said, patting Bill’s cheek as she did so. </p><p> </p><p>“Lovebirds, you can have your spat when you get home,” Severus said, his voice cruel. “There are far more <em> important </em>things to deal with.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut it, Death Eater scum,” the guard said, pointing his wand at Snape. “Or I might find a reason for you to join your old friends.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you forget who exactly I am?” Snape retorted. “Potter will have your head if you dare, but part of me hopes you do, you bastard. You could use being taken down a peg or two. I wonder what people would think of how you treat people who have yet to be found guilty.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your kind doesn’t<em> need </em> to be found guilty. Everyone knows the truth already,” the man responded back, adding under his breath, “you freak.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut your face. Or I shall shut it for you,” Severus bellowed, towering over the rather spineless Guard, who crumbled at the mere presence of the man leaning over him. “Or this <em> freak </em>might teach you what seems like a very needed lesson.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do it, then why don’t ya?” The guard asked. </p><p> </p><p>“You are not worth <em> our </em> time or energy you swine,” Bill snapped. </p><p> </p><p>“For the love of all that’s holy, just shut it.” she said, pushing past the men.</p><p> </p><p>Her nerves were shot. Her hands shaking, nails desperately trying to turn into claws. Her wings pressing against her skin needing to escape the confines of her back. Her nature was desperate to protect her unborn child from the threats. </p><p> </p><p>Even if they weren’t meant for her.</p><p> </p><p>The Auror was surely given such a <em> useless </em>position because of his stupidity. Snape, however, was playing right into the man’s hand. Bill too was ready to fight, even if moments ago he had been questioning Snape’s. It didn’t matter how he felt about his former professor, slurs were not something the man liked. No matter who they were thrown at. </p><p> </p><p><em> Englishmen and their need to fight like dogs over the last piece of meat, </em> Fleur thought. <em> They all needed to have their mouths shut, permanently, at times like this.  </em></p><p> </p><p>They followed her as she searched for Draco. Their boots clacking against the stone floor as they did so. He wasn’t hard to find. His blond hair striking even in the dim lights of the cells. His mother, Narcissa, she believed was with him. Snape was right about his status. White as snow feathered wings sprouting sharply from the boy’s back. His head hid in his mother’s lap. She softly tried to calm him. The sobbing man who looked more in this moment like the child he no longer was. </p><p> </p><p>“Help him,” the woman cried. “Please, help him.”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa’s cheeks were gaunt with hunger, her blonde gold-like hair hung limply around her, but her blue eyes were the worst. They were filled with unshed tears. She was desperately trying to hold it together. Even as her pale hands were coated in bright red blood. The first transformation was always the hardest. More so if it happened later than normally expected.</p><p> </p><p>“Why did you try to stop it from happening?” Fleur asked. “You should know there is no stopping it.”</p><p> </p><p>“He begged me to,” the other woman cried. “He didn’t want it to reveal his situation during the war.”</p><p> </p><p>“And yet it has done just that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t stand there judging me for the choices I have made,” Narcissa said, staring at the other woman, noticing her pregnancy. “You soon will be a mother and you too will understand that you are willing to do <em> anything </em>for your child.”</p><p> </p><p>Fleur ignored her, having nothing to say. Nothing could be said to make it better, but she could help them both. </p><p> </p><p>She turned to face the three men who had caught up with her, “Let me inside the cell.” She wrapped her fingers around the iron bars before her. </p><p> </p><p>“No!” Bill snapped, his voice echoing off the stone walls. </p><p> </p><p>“I can help him,” she said, letting go of the bars and stepping closer to her husband, pressing her hand against his heaving chest, calming him instantly. “I know how to help him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Surely someone else can,” Bill muttered. “There has to be someone else who can. It is unsafe in your condition.”</p><p> </p><p>“They have no wands and they both know hurting me will only harm them.”</p><p> </p><p>“But,” he whispered, though his pushback stopped when Bill looked at the sight before them. The proud Malfoys were long gone, vanishing under the misery and suffering they had been forced to endure. He croaked, “do as she asks.”</p><p> </p><p>The nameless guard said, “No.” Not at all bothered by the sight before him. </p><p> </p><p><em> What must have made the man so unaffected by the suffering of others? </em> Fleur thought, <em> even if they were once your enemy? </em></p><p> </p><p>“Shall I go fetch Minster Shackabolt?” Severus asked, sharply. “Or would you prefer me to owl the director of Auror department? He's trying to make a name for himself after all. Just taking on the roll after all. Or maybe I should skip them and go straight to the blasted Boy-Who-Lived-Again? Wouldn't serve you right? Keeping Mrs. Weasley from the son of the woman who saved him sounds exactly like what would put you on his good side. I can see the headlines right now, <em> Auror stops  pregnant war hero from helping young Veela, son of the savior of the savior. </em>But, that doesn’t have a catchy ring to it, now does it? Surely the Prophet can come up with something far better, don’t you think?”</p><p> </p><p>Bill placed his fist over his lips, trying to hold back his laughter, but he failed to do so. His cheeks turned as red as his hair. It was something to smile at even if why it had to be done was uncalled for.</p><p> </p><p>The Auror grumbled something she could not hear, but pulled the keys to the cell from his pocket. The silver key ring slipping from his fingers, falling and clanging loudly against the stone floor. Draco covered his ears in his cell, crying out as he did so. Fleur understood that feeling well. Everything seemed sharper, <em> louder, </em> after the change. Everything felt as if it was designed to torture you. Things that once seemed so bloody normal, existing to only cause you more harm and suffering.        </p><p> </p><p><em> It got better with time, </em> Fleur thought. <em> Anything could get better with time. Or you simply learned to live with it, as her mother always said.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Bill snatched the keys up guiding the guard’s hand to open the jail cell, not allowing them to be dropped once more. The Auror clearly enjoyed punishing those under his care even with simple snide actions, which was all he seemed to be able to muster. </p><p> </p><p>The simple fact was sickening to her. It didn’t matter what someone had done. If you did not treat them decently than you were no better than the person who had committed the crime. The one that you were judging. No one was someone’s judge, jury and jailor.  </p><p> </p><p><em> Humans, </em> her mind grumbled. <em> Far to foolish to see past their own bloody stupid noses.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Wizard, Witch, Muggle, Squib or something in between were  all the same. They enjoyed demoralizing those who they deemed lesser than them to simply prop themselves up. The guilty deserved to be punished, but a jail cell was punishment enough. There was no need to grind their face into the muck deeper to make yourself feel better. </p><p> </p><p>But it didn’t matter no matter what she said. There was no way to change the heart of a man whose beliefs were set in stone. However, Fleur could help Draco and his mother along with him. As soon as the door was opened she stepped inside. She tried to make her footfalls as soft as she possibly could, not wanting to cause the boy before her any more discomfort. </p><p>“Hello, Draco,” she said. “I don’t believe we have spoken much, but I am Fleur. I am like you and I am here to help you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I remember you.” He pulled his hands away from his ears and said, “You came to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. Everyone thought you were the prettiest witch they had ever seen, but I knew better.”</p><p> </p><p>She sighed softly in amusement, “I noticed that you didn’t follow me around like they did. It left me guessing that you might be like me. You could speak to me without turning bright red and mumbling something I could not understand. You weren’t like the rest of the stupid Englishmen only thinking with the wrong head.”</p><p> </p><p>Bill laughed softly from where he stood in the doorway. Snape grumbled something else, though it did not matter. The former Headmaster too felt no draw to her. As he had spat her one order meeting when Severus still attended them, that is. He was not put under the spell she seemed to put on most men. Even if she did not desire to. It was just something that came along with her situation among other things. </p><p> </p><p>“You said you can help me?” Draco asked, “Can you make this go away?”</p><p> </p><p>“Child,” she said.</p><p> </p><p>He huffed, his wings fluttering as he did so.</p><p> </p><p>“You are still a child, young one, in more ways than one. My mother would call you a fledgling, but I happen to despise that term myself. Just as I am sure you do. Enjoy being young, you have your whole life to be a man.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever,” Draco hissed.</p><p> </p><p>“Draco,” Narcissa said, as she stroked his hair. “Be kind to her. Mrs. Weasley is only trying to help you. I asked Severus to bring her. She’s not that different from you and can help you in ways that I cannot not.”</p><p> </p><p>“I just need more potions and this horror will go away like it always does.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sweetie, it’s not possible anymore to do that,” the mother told her child. “What is done cannot be undone. No matter how much we all wish that it could be.”</p><p> </p><p>“You lied to me!” Draco shouted, pulling away from her. He pointed his clawed hand sharply at his mother. Narcissa backed away from him into the corner, <em> scared. </em> </p><p> </p><p>The less than <em> human </em> features of Veela usually caused that reaction. Even from those most closest to the person who inherited the condition. It didn’t matter if you shared their blood there was just something rather <em> unsettling </em> about your relative sprouting wings and growing claws. Young Veelas were also known for their tempers, along with their willingness to strike against anyone besides another of their kind or their mate. It was a protection from long ago when they were hunted and put into cages and on display. </p><p> </p><p>To be trapped. To be chained. To be shown off like a Muggle zoo animal or a circus freak.</p><p> </p><p>“Draco, please settle down,” Fleur said, becoming harsher when he didn’t listen and inched closer to his mother. “Stop it! Do not hurt your mother! She speaks the truth!”</p><p> </p><p>“Go to hell!” He growled.</p><p> </p><p>Fleur reached down grabbing the boy by the back of the neck, shaking him as she did so. His claws not finding purchase on her skin. Draco’s wings scraped against the stone floor. </p><p> </p><p>Her face  was rigid and eyes  blazing as she spoke, “Stop it or I shall make you stop! Settle down or I shall teach you the meaning of true fury! You spoiled little brat I am here to help you and you will allow me to do so.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco crumbled onto the floor in a heap of wings and human limbs. His neck bending low, understanding that she was stronger than he. He gave into her will, fearful of what she might do to him if he did not. Even if Fleur meant Draco no harm. </p><p> </p><p>But thankfully he did not know that.</p><p> </p><p>He was unwieldy and untamed. The human and the Veela parts inside fought for control of his mind. They needed to learn to settle to become balanced. They needed to accept that they were in fact one in the same. But, that like anything would take time. More so with the fact that he had been poisoning this part of him for Merlin only knew how long.</p><p> </p><p>For now Fleur had to be the balance, for the man and the Veela. It wouldn’t be easy. Draco had spent his life burying not only this creature part of him, by trying to fight that part of him. He shouldn’t have been born like this, but no one got a choice in that matter. Life was not kind If it was? He would have been simply a carrier of this gene, passing it onto his children. Some females would have possibly become Veelas. Others, like the males, would simply be a carrier like their father before them.  </p><p> </p><p>Men who were Veelas, like Draco and her brother were proof that gender and assigned sex were different things. That most people had the same boxes were checked the same. But for a small percent? They weren’t so lucky. </p><p> </p><p>Mother nature and Magic were bloody wretched creatures.</p><p> </p><p>“Help me, please,” Draco cried, straightening himself out into a proper sitting position. Blond hair falling into face, silver-blue eyes watering. “I... I want to do whatever I can to get back to the person I am supposed to be.”</p><p> </p><p>“First,” Fleur said. “Breathe in and out as deep as you can.”</p><p> </p><p>He did as he was told. </p><p> </p><p>“Now, think about pulling your wings and claws back, imagine them slipping back inside. You should feel it starting to happen. It will feel tight, you will not want to do it, but you must. It will help your mind settle and bring you back to reality.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco’s wings and claws started to slip back in. His wings twisting, slipping, and curling into his naked back. His claws easing back into his nail beds and fingers. His face softening once they did. “Thank you, Fleur.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are welcome,” she said as she turned on her heel facing the three men who were gawking at the whole situation. “I need to speak to Harry Potter.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” The Auror asked. </p><p> </p><p>“Because I said that I have to,” Fleur growled. “And you surely are not him.” </p><p> </p><p>“Do it,” Snape muttered, lighting a cigarette. The smoke curling around him like snakes. Fleur wrinkled her nose at the smell, bile rising in her throat. </p><p> </p><p>The bastard questioned. “And why would I want to do that?” </p><p> </p><p>“Must we remind you why?” Bill retorted, twisting his wand between his fingers. His scars looked far more scary than they usually did, in the candlelight. His blue eyes reminded his wife of a wolf predatory in nature.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, I will. Shut the door before you leave and if you don’t? Not even Potter can help them.” The Auror turned on his heels walking away. </p><p> </p><p>“Come on Bill, we have much to do,” Fleur said, reaching for her husband’s arm. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Narcissa said, standing and walking over to the doorway. Her hand held up in the air as if she wanted to reach out for the other woman, but stopped herself. “Thank you, for all your help.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your welcome,” she said. “But I am not done, at least not yet. Potter will get you both out of here. There is still much I plan to do to help your son. Draco will need your support during this time, more than anything else.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do we need to do, love?” Bill asked, ignoring the both of the Malfoys.</p><p> </p><p>“We will be having house guests and we need to make rooms up for them,” Fleur said, smiling. “And Snape? Make the potions Draco requires for both of his needs.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Mrs. Weasley,” Snape muttered. “And I too will contact Potter in case that moron is incapable of following orders.”</p><p> </p><p>Fleur laughed at his comment, liking his strange sense of humor and barbed comments when they were directed at someone who deserved them.</p><p> </p><p>There was much to do, many things that needed to be put in place to help the boy and woman who were locked in the cell when they had to once again shut the door. The clanging graining on both of the Veelas nerves. It pained her to leave the Malfoys behind, but soon they would be released. Fleur would make sure of it. She was many things, but rather stubborn happened to be one of them. </p><p> </p><p>Fleur followed Severus and Bill out of the prison, not bothering to stop to visit with the other inhabitants. Not even Lucius who called out for his friend.  Fleur had no sympathy for him. He was surely to blame for how Draco viewed himself. She made a list of all things she would need for her soon to be house guests. Food, soft beds, being clean and being away from this place would do them both good. </p><p> </p><p>Some people called Veelas the golden people. But long ago Louis commented that the condition was a fool’s gold. Something that was wonderful in theory and horror in practice. He still kept it buried and while she didn’t think it was right? Fleur understood it. </p><p> </p><p>It didn’t stop her from hoping that she could help young Draco to learn a way to accept all the parts of himself. The man and the Veela. There was a way to be both. They did not, no matter how much Louis believed it, invalidate one another.  </p><p> </p><p>Fleur could only hope, but she had been doing that for a rather long while, hadn’t she? Wars were fought on hope. If you gave it enough of what it needed - your hope could sprout into so much more.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco opened the windows that overlooked the sea near Shell Cottage. It was early morning, the sun just barely rising over the cliffs that surrounded the loch. The smell of water engulfing him. It calmed his mind from the rambling thoughts that seemed to plague him since he had left the ministry holding cell. </p><p> </p><p>No other member of the household was awake, though the newborn in the house made sure of that. It couldn’t be helped, Victoire was just a baby and it wasn’t her fault her crying kept the house awake all hours of the day and night. Those among them with relative sanity took advantage of the time the baby was asleep to catch some of their own. Draco didn’t count himself among them. Allowing himself to go to sleep meant nightmares filled with the dead, the dying, and fear that it would all too soon be his turn to face the monster who haunted him. </p><p> </p><p>Voldemort. Or Tom Riddle as many now had taken to calling him. </p><p> </p><p>Even after his death he was inescapable for Draco. The monster’s Dark Mark, still marring his left arm, though it was now more grey than anything. The choices a person made defined them, and shaped them, the good and the bad. But now was not the time to think of such things. It was time to take to the sky. His body twisting first into the form that was his own, even if it was <em> not </em> the one Draco was born in. But it was the one that was <em> right </em> for him. </p><p> </p><p>The one he <em> should </em>have been.  </p><p> </p><p>The fog rolled in, causing the sky to become a pungent shade of hazy grey, the small amount of sunlight being filtered through the heavy cloud cover. Draco took in a sharp breath. The slight chill did not bother him, if anything it brought him comfort. It was like a welcomed friend - reminding him he was still in <em> fact, </em>alive. </p><p> </p><p>The changes were easier now, becoming the other part of himself, the one Draco had spent years trying to bury. In the months he had spent in this house he had come to accept this. However, the room and house he spent his days in was not his own. It did not matter how many evergreen blankets were piled onto the bed. This was still a guest room as it would always be - even if it was a welcomed one - in a home where Draco did not belong. </p><p> </p><p>But, he didn’t belong in Malfoy manor either. The hallowed halls where his ancestors had walked for hundreds of years. The corridors he had chased house-elves in. The gardens where he had kissed Pansy on a dare when they were six, deciding then that they preferred to be friends. But the best of friends all the same. It was the place of his birth, the place his father and most of his forefathers had been born in.</p><p> </p><p>In the rooms where Draco long ago had insisted that he was a boy to his mother and anyone else who was around to listen. His accidental magic caused his white blond wavy hair to fall out in clumps and his dress to tear itself to shreds.  He had insisted that if he would be attending the party that they were having for Christmas, he would dress like father, not his mother. </p><p> </p><p>It had been as simple as that. Simply dressing differently when Draco was young. Then as he grew up there were potions, those to stop things at first and when the war truly  started Severus did what he could to make him like any other growing young man, helping him along with the glamours that he now wore like armour.</p><p> </p><p>Severus was someone Draco would be forever indebted to, for more than one reason. The man helped him just as much as his parents to become who he was. Severus helped him keep back the tide of the things that were fighting each other inside of him...</p><p> </p><p><em> ‘Until </em>…’ No he wouldn’t think about that. Not here, not now. His thoughts returned to other things.      </p><p> </p><p>Draco thought of far happier things. The manor, when it was a home. One painted with love, acceptance and joy. Until like a lightning strike, the man who was more nightmare than person came back to life. It was like someone had blown out all the candles in the room leaving behind only the ghosts that haunted the halls. The screams and the barking laughter of madness.</p><p> </p><p>Draco saw himself as he was with the stark white wings in his head before they had begun to sprout from shoulder blades. There was a small bit of pain, as there always was, but it was more like ripping off a bandage: once it was done it felt so much better. </p><p> </p><p>His claws were the easiest part, they simply slipped from his nail beds without much thought. He gripped the window frame and then he launched himself into the sky.</p><p> </p><p>Flying like this, it felt so much better than a broom. When he rode a broom it felt being part of a world that he simply wasn’t supposed to be a part of. But, this was different. Draco <em>should </em>be part of this world. It was as natural as taking a deep breath. With keen eyes he saw a couple of harbor seals who were playing  in the surf below. Seagulls flew to the shore, their pearly wings carried them, as they made their way to steal bits of food from Muggle beach goers further down the shore. Everything was alive and Draco a part of it. </p><p> </p><p>He flew towards the open water. Fleur had insisted it was safer out there.  Fishermen were odd folk; they were used to seeing things they could not explain in the sky. To Muggles he would be just another bird, but to those with some distant magical blood, squibs and their descendants might be able to see him as he was. The lost magic folk as some called them. What some believed Muggleborns had come from. Though it mattered little to him either way.</p><p> </p><p>Miles from shore there were boats filled with men, passing each other in the early morning. Those who were coming in with the night’s catch and the ones who were going out into the morning light. Draco could see them as easily as if he was standing on the deck with them. They wore bright yellow slickers and heavy rubber boots. Just easily he saw the nets that they were untangling and setting aside for this day or the next. There were many gifts to being a Veela, one was their keen eyes in this form. Potter wouldn’t have been able to catch the snitch before him, if he would have been allowed to play in <em> this </em> form.  </p><p> </p><p>However, that was not the case. Draco knew as heartbreaking as it was he would never play again. In this form or any other.  There were rules against such things, though he couldn’t find a reason why. But, he was a creature now, and the wizarding world hated halfbreeds.</p><p> </p><p>The very thought made him want to hiss. </p><p> </p><p>Draco went further out to sea, past the places which those who feared the sea dared to go. He went out to the places which only the nerviest of fishmen dared to venture. He watched a bird, cormorant, from the looks of it, as it took a dive deep under the waves, surfacing sharply, with a fish in its beak.</p><p> </p><p>The sun was starting to rise and with it, the rest of the residents of Shell Cottage would soon wake up. If Draco wasn’t back by then he would surely be missed. He took a sharp turn back towards the direction to shore, though it pained him greatly to do so. An aching feeling that filled his mind and body. </p><p> </p><p>These mornings were the only times he felt truly alive. Going back to the people who resided in that cottage, even though they were kind to him, it still felt like a self inflicted slicing curse. </p><p> </p><p>Draco knew that he should try not to worry his mother, but that was truly easier said than done. He loved her, hell he had started to care for the Weasleys as well, though sometimes he felt like he was only dragging them down. That he was only causing all of them more pain in the end. That maybe just maybe that they would be better if he never came back after one of these morning flights. Draco was barely paying attention to the sights below him as he made his way back. It was time to let the other part of him lead in this dance called life, the part that was human. </p><p> </p><p>The parts of himself that were forced to feel. To remember, to know, and to understand what was going on in the world around him. In this instant, he was not the boy who people laughed at. The one who was thrown in a cell and left to rot. The one who made all the wrong choices, but still lived to tell the tale. He knew it as he lived and breathed, people wished he hadn’t. </p><p> </p><p>As much as he hated being a creature? One that he never should have been. It was far easier to escape into it. To escape into the sky as a Veela, there was so much to hate about it, but his wings were his doom and his freedom twisted all up into a bow. There were far more important things to think about though. </p><p> </p><p>You always had to land, you always had to come back to earth, no matter how much you wished you didn’t have to.    </p><p>                    </p><hr/><p><br/>Draco landed on the shore, behind a few trees, and transformed back into the man that he was. Allowing it to happen just as he did when he allowed the Veela parts of him to escape. He stepped out from the trees, sighing as he did so. His bare feet against the cool sand, reminded him of where he was and <em> who </em>he was. Draco allowed it in. He walked slowly back to the place that he lived, enjoying the quiet calmness of the early morning. </p><p> </p><p>The birds were chirping in the trees, hares playing in the small amount of grass, along with a niffler that a Muggle wouldn’t see. It had a shiny silver necklace in it’s grasp. Merlin only knew where it had gotten it from. Likely the Muggles that lived near here. The thought of it making him smile, sometimes what someone couldn’t see was more important than what they could. Fleur told him that Veelas were just as much a part of nature as anything else. That all creatures were a part of the world whether they were magical or Muggle.</p><p> </p><p>Bill didn’t believe it, insisting that some creatures weren’t natural, like werewolves. But his wife simply told the man to hush. Everything that existed was not created by someone sitting upon a high point, it was from nature and it did not have a mind. It was more like the ebb and flow of tide. It just was. You might not understand why it was, but the environment called for it, even if we could not exactly make sense of it in this instant.  </p><p> </p><p>Draco walked inside the back door of the house, crossing the porch silently. He ignored Severus and his mother who were both sitting at the breakfast table. They did the same to him. Their heads were bent together, talking, and ignoring the food that was on their plates. He made his way to his room, shutting the window that he hadn’t meant to leave open. </p><p> </p><p>It was not cold to him, that was not honestly saying very much though. The other members of the house felt quite differently about it. The quiet of his mind that Draco had experienced in the sky was long gone. His thoughts twisted through his mind like a dancer with ribbons of contrasting colours. </p><p> </p><p>He shoved his head in his hands and tried to shut them out. The ones about his father, about the war, and most of all about the fact he would have to go back to Hogwarts for his “eighth year”. What a bunch of bloody hogwash that was. It was a repeat of their <em> seventh </em> year because of the war, and no stupid words could make it any different. But, most of all Draco tried desperately to not think about his mate.</p><p> </p><p>The woman, the one who haunted his dreams and yet he didn’t even know her name. The one who was always just out of reach. The one who was just beyond the edge of the forest, standing in the bright light, waiting for him, but only if Draco could reach her. And yet he was never able to do that. </p><p> </p><p><em> ‘Forget it! </em> His mind snapped, <em> you have far more important things to worry about!’ </em></p><p> </p><p>Draco dug around in the dresser in the corner and he did not bother paying attention to what he grabbed. He stripped off the jeans that he pulled on for his flight. He needed to be proper, clean, and respectable clothing. Each button he did snapped his shields into place. Draco went out to face the music. It was time to deal with what was going to happen to his father. </p><p> </p><p>When he was growing up he had seen his father as if he was some sort of God. Thinking to himself that the man could do no wrong. That he was like a Muggle superhero to him, but unlike them he was real and alive. Walking the halls of the manor his nose turned sharply up, ordering the house-elves around as if he was a king with Draco following him around like some sort of little duck. </p><p> </p><p>He spent his childhood walking like his father, talking like him, and most of all behaving like him. Looking back that had been foolish, downright stupid even, but hindsight was twenty-twenty in all things. </p><p> </p><p>Draco stepped out into the hall, walking past Bill and Fleur’s room. Victoire thankfully still slept on in her crib. He made his way to the kitchen where his mother and Snape still sat. Draco continued to ignore them, trying in his own little way to avoid the necessary conversation that was to come. Pulling out the pumpkin juice from the ice cabinet and a glass from the dry cabinet next to it. There were apples sitting on the counter, their bright green hued skin, shiny and unblemished.</p><p> </p><p><em> ‘They are just apples, </em> he thought sharply. <em> It’s not like they are going to eat you or something.’ </em></p><p> </p><p>The logical part of his brain knew they were in fact <em> just </em>apples, but that did not quell the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, eating away at him like some sort of parasite. Killing his appetite before he had even taken a single bite of food. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘Whatever, things could be far worse, couldn’t they? He and his mother could still be in that cell being jeered at by the Aurors who wanted to take out their own suffering on the people in their custody. They could still be under the reign of Voldemort. His aunt could have lived taking her dead mate’s place, becoming a far harsher ruler. There were far worse things than a bowl of apples on a counter.’  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Draco,” His mother said, saying his name like it was a question, “are you okay? Sure you don’t want something for breakfast?”     </p><p> </p><p>“Not hungry,” he muttered. “I am not hungry.”</p><p> </p><p>“You really should eat, sweetie.”</p><p> </p><p>“Leave the boy alone,” Severus said. “He will eat when he is hungry.” </p><p> </p><p>Narcissa simply sighed pinching the bridge of her nose, “Says the man with a full plate of untouched food.”</p><p> </p><p>“Says the woman who hasn’t had anything this morning besides three cups of black coffee. Narcissa, you are the pot who is calling the kettle black.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco gulped down his pumpkin juice and set the glass in the sink. He knew he should wash it, but if he did it would only leave him to find another excuse to avoid sitting down. Avoid facing the piles of parchment that Severus was flipping through. The ones that would tell him his father’s fate. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘Would the man once again get off? Or was he to be made an example of? Just as he was nearly two years ago? Would they kill him, taking their own suffering out on one of the few living Death Eaters? Would his father suffer more because his son and wife walked free? Was Draco to blame for what was going to happen to his father?’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>His breathing sped up, coming out in sharp puffs, but he wasn’t getting any air in. Draco’s fingers gripping the countertop, his nails lengthening and turning into claws. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘There had to be a way to save him. There has to be a way…’ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Calm yourself,” said a voice that sounded sharp and distant. “Breathe, you are not in danger and you cannot help anyone in this moment. No matter who it is.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco did as he was told, breathing as deeply as he possibly could. His hands no longer shook and he was able to let go of the counter. Fleur stood next to him; she did not touch him. Her presence was calming. With the air she always seemed to have around her, Victoire was bundled tightly in her arms. The baby was looking at him, her thin blonde hair stood in wispy tufts on her head. Her blue eyes were bright, and her expression had this innocence to it that seemed downright otherworldly. He hoped he had not scared her or her mother.</p><p> </p><p>“I am sorry...I,” Draco said, turning to her. “I seem to have this habit of getting lost in my own mind and letting it run away with itself.”</p><p> </p><p>“We all do that,” Fleur mumumured, tucking her baby closer to her. “Sometimes we all simply need a reminder of where we are in time and space. But, I agree with your mother, you should try to eat something. If not now, then at least for lunch, later. Flying uses more energy than just about anything else.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will eat lunch, I have never been much of a breakfast person anyway…”</p><p> </p><p>She did not respond to him, simply sighing and raising one pale blonde eyebrow and shaking her head. “Sit down and listen to Snape. From what I understand the news isn’t as bad as you are expecting.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am sorry,” he said once more. </p><p> </p><p>“You have nothing to be sorry about, now I am going to try to convince this little one to take a nap even if she just woke up. Victoire didn’t let me sleep at all last night.” </p><p> </p><p>He grabbed a mug from the cabinet, Draco desperately wished that he could have something stronger. The mug was hot under his hands, almost too much, and yet he didn’t set it down. He took it over to the table, taking his seat. His mother was sitting across from him, her thin face pinched ever so slightly, her blonde hair falling around her narrow shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>Severus shifted back further in his chair, then began to speak, “Your father is being forced to leave the country. The wizarding world desires to avoid spilling anymore blood, but the dementors are no longer an option for guards. With the Aurors numbers so few they can’t spare anyone to enforce  the punishment of prisoners. House arrest was mulled over and they decided that it was not an option, so they came to this.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you aren’t going to defend him?” Draco asked, turning sharply to face the man. “After all he has done for you, after what he suffered during the war? Even knowing the fact all that he was doing was protecting me and mother?”</p><p> </p><p>“Draco…” Narcissa hissed. “Stop...your father....”</p><p> </p><p>“My father is far less guilty than he is,” He pointed sharply at Severus. “What has father done, that he hasn’t?”</p><p> </p><p>“Your father went after children at the ministry, <em> knowingly </em>, and did not leave Voldemort when he was given many options to do just that. He also actively lied after the first war.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco stood sharply, staring down the other man, “You killed the Headmaster, and I nearly did. What makes us any better than he is?”</p><p> </p><p>“What makes me different?” Severus bellowed. “I gave every single bit of myself to this war, possibly even my own soul. What makes you different? Your mother, Potter and as shocking as it must seem? I fought for you. Because we convinced them that you are not lost cause, boy, and I had to choose to save one of you. It was either you or your father. I was the reason that man was able to lie during the first war, and I hoped he would change. He would not. That he wouldn’t allow you to become like him. But you did and yet you also did not. So hate me for the choices I have made, Draco, but I still would make them once more.”</p><p> </p><p>“You should have saved him!” He cried, “ I could have saved myself!”</p><p> </p><p>“Bullshit,” the man muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “You would have ended up far worse than he did. Because  shockingly you are it seems a better Death Eater than he ever was. As amusing as that might be.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your father, Draco,” his mother said. “Is going to France, not the moon. He isn’t sad about it and I will join him after you finish your last year at Hogwarts. They are less angry over there. Their wounds are less raw. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but this is in fact a <em> good </em>thing. I know it doesn’t seem like it at this moment, but it is. I swear it.” Her hand ran up his back, the soothing strokes trying desperately to calm him, but failing to do so. </p><p> </p><p>“And why can’t we join him?” Draco asked her, crying as he did so. His teeth sunk into his lip as silent sobs shook his frame. “Why must he go and we must stay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you have to make a life for yourself. Because you must be better than both of us. Because sometimes we must do things that are hard because they are in fact right, even if they are not easy.” </p><p> </p><p>Draco turned to face his mother. </p><p> </p><p>Narcissa pulled away from him, “Do not blame Severus, he did not make the bed that your father and I decided to lie in. Your family should have given you great things when you became a man, my son, but it seems all I have to give you is this…A chance, an education, and most all a choice. This life is yours to make of it. Do not make the mistakes that we have. I am begging you to make something better of yourself.” </p><p> </p><p>“Listen to your mother,” Severus said.</p><p> </p><p>Draco spun once more and turned sharply to the man. The one he once saw as perfect. The person he long ago had wished that he could be more like and punched him. Severus Snape’s overly large nose, too many times already broken, crunched under his fist. Severus didn’t make a sound and did not stop Draco as he bolted from the house, his bare feet carrying him out the back door, through the sand and into the waves. </p><p> </p><p>The salt water was licking at his trousers, soaking them through and made them rather heavy. Part of him wanted once more to take flight, to leave the ground and the world behind him. Forget everything that had been said to him. To forget his father, his mother, Snape, his own pain and suffering, along with the world that wanted him to be something he could never truly be. Everything seemed when Draco was flying that it could not touch him. </p><p> </p><p>That it did not matter what happened in the world below. He was something else in those moments - not human - but not an animal either. Draco in those instances was simply free. But, in this instance he was not in the air, he was not flying, and therefore he was not free. He was grounded sharply to the earth, his feet tied tightly to it. Not by any sort of magical forces, but the simple fact his mother needed him. Now more than ever.</p><p> </p><p>“Your mum isn’t a bad person and neither is Snape,” someone muttered from a short distance away. The rough cadence of his voice giving him away. It was Bill Weasley. “Sometimes things just happen the way they do.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you know about any of this?” Draco asked, turning sharply to face the man. Growling before he continued, “Your parents and you picked the right side just as mine picked what has become the wrong one. Your choices, William Weasley, were set for you before you had even taken your first breath. As were my own. I do not think my mother or Severus are bad people; I simply wish we all had the option to make different choices. And I hate the fact even if I can see all the wrong that my father has done, even if I wear it now and forever on my own skin? I still love him, I still don’t want him to leave, and you know what? I would bet anything if it was <em> your </em> father and not mine you would feel the same way.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco slammed his fists into Bill’s chest as he spoke. It was not that he was trying to hurt the man, and yet he could not stop himself from doing so. Cries and howled noises escaping his lips. Bill reached out grabbing Draco’s wrists before he could get in another blow. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop it,” Bill muttered. “I know you are in pain, but that does not give you a right to throw your fists around. You are allowed to love people who have done wrong. But, you must try to be a better person. You have to see people as who they are with their warts and all. However you can still love them. You can still treasure what they mean to you and wish them the best. I know it doesn’t seem easy at this moment. With your father leaving and all that has changed, but you Draco, have a choice about how you are going to handle this. You can stay here and make a life for yourself, or you can leave this country and figure out how to make a life for yourself there. The snitch is in your grasp and the choice is yours.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p><br/>Draco started to pack his trunk once more having only unpacked it a few hours ago. Part of him didn’t want to catch the Hogwarts Express tomorrow morning - to skip the tradition - but that wasn’t actually possible. If he was going to go back to Hogwarts he was going to have to face being trapped on a train with two types of people who were after his blood. </p><p> </p><p>His former fellow Death Eaters and their children considered the Malfoy family and those like them to be traitors. Sellouts who earned their freedom on the backs of others, who they happily left to rot prison. There were rumors that the Malfoy family had always been a part of the Order of the Phoenix, like Snape. That they too were spies. A bunch of bloody hogwash that was. The very thought of it making him want to laugh out loud. </p><p> </p><p>His father was being exiled to France, his mother and he were penniless. That’s exactly what happened to <em> loyal </em> members of the Order of the Phoenix, wasn’t it? </p><p> </p><p>He folded his uniform shirts tightly, laying them at the bottom. They were followed by his jumpers, his trousers, and the rest of his things. Draco knew there was no future for him in this country, at least as a wizard if he did not finish Hogwarts. Money, not even with magic, did not grow on trees. If you had nothing to inherit - you had to earn it. Someone like him did not have people freely handing out good jobs to them. It was just the way the biscuit crumbled.</p><p> </p><p>Draco was going to have to work for it. For the first time in his life he had to prove that he was as worthy as the rest. </p><p> </p><p><em> ‘Bloody hell, </em> he thought. <em> Surely I am a piss poor example of what a Malfoy should be.’  </em></p><p> </p><p>He would bet anything that his ancestors were rolling in their graves at those facts, but unlike his parents they had been possibly been doing that since Draco had been born. Looking back with the eyes of an adult or at least what he sometimes felt he was he knew that they wouldn’t have been happy with anything about him. His father only allowed Draco to be himself because it was easier. Lucius needed a son and he sort of fit that bill. </p><p> </p><p>Long ago in a room in Malfoy manor a healer had shouted the words that would damn Draco to many things, his creature inheritance and the experiences that made him who he was, <em> ‘It’s a girl.’ </em></p><p> </p><p>Even just <em> thinking </em> those words made bile start to rise in his throat. If he would have been born a Black he would have been forced to live and die in the role of a daughter, even if it would only lead to his untimely death. A few hundred years ago he might have been forced just the same as being born a Malfoy, but his father’s family had changed over time, having less sons over the years and then less children in general. </p><p> </p><p>It didn’t matter in the end and it was not like that he was going to have biological children anyway due to his own situation. But the fact was, in the last three generations only one Malfoy child survived the first month of life. </p><p> </p><p>His father and his grandfather had been male, so it didn’t matter much beyond being slightly more careful about the boy. Some accused them of spoiling their boys - giving into their every whim - but doing so kept them safe. Just as with many things and surely many more in the future Draco had his mother to thank for allowing him to be his true self. His father had been angry, ignoring him, some might call it shunning him. Wanting to distance himself from the child who had been born the wrong sex. The man must have surely contemplated taking a mistress, wondering if that would give him a chance for a baby of the right sex. Though he never did go through with it.</p><p> </p><p>So, when his mother dressed Draco in the clothes he insisted on wearing to that party? Narcissa suggested something that would go down in his mind as a great gift: if he wants to be a boy? We should let him be. It is best for everyone. Let the world think as they will. Very few people knew that the Malfoys had a female child and most were loyal to them. But the rest? Their silence could easily be bought. </p><p> </p><p>It would have been perfectly fine and his life could have gone as it was supposed to, but there had to be a little hitch in that plan. One that cropped up when he was sixteen. Draco was a Veela and glamours could not hide that fact, unlike all the rest of his secrets. </p><p> </p><p>His savior, the one who had given him the chance to live the life of his choosing had also been the one to damn him with a curse she herself had not inherited. The one that stalked the Black family like a thief in the night: one that took some of their daughters to great heights and others to great madness. </p><p> </p><p>Part of Draco wanted to blame his mother, to curse her to the ends of the earth and back. To scream at her to the point his own voice echoed throughout the halls of the manor, long going hoarse from his own cries. But once again she saved him. Just as his mother always would - until she couldn’t. However, in this she held no blame. It was the fools who locked them up.  Leaving him there to allow the Veela to build once more to gather it’s strength. To allow it once more gain a foothold in his body just as it had before. </p><p> </p><p>That didn’t mean Draco did not curse the fool who long ago had taken Veela as his bride. That Black, unlike his mother, was to blame. No matter how much Draco liked to fly. No matter how wonderful some parts of his inheritance was, he would happily give it up to be like any other boy in Slytherin. To be <em> normal </em>and plain. </p><p> </p><p>However, as his father had long ago told him, Malfoys were anything but typical. There was nothing that was ever going to change that. No matter how much he wished that could be the case. But, he doubted his father meant <em> this </em>when he told him at six that.</p><p> </p><p>Draco stuffed his school appropriate cloak in his trunk and began to get ready for bed. </p><p> </p><p>Pulling his clothing off, folding them and setting them aside on the chair in the corner. It was time to remove his glamours. This step was always the worst. Wanting to hide from your own body, in one that did not feel like your own was the worst feeling Draco had ever experienced. It wasn’t that it was painful; in fact it was painful to leave them on. But, it was the inescapable feeling of his body no longer being his own. Of being something that he never was supposed to be.</p><p> </p><p>Magic could only do so much. There was always going to be push back. Everything had a cost not how much you wished it did not. Draco curled up under the covers of his bed. Tomorrow he would wake and fly over the sea with Fleur. He would say goodbye to her and this place, but maybe he just might be able to take a piece of this serenity with him to Hogwarts. Or at least he wished that he could and that sometimes was all that you could do.</p><p> </p><p>Hope was a powerful thing; if you allowed it to be.    </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco sat on his bed and stared out the window watching the tide come in. There was a clock softly ticking on the bedside table. The sound echoed through his mind like a drum. He tugged at his hair, trying desperately to distract himself from the thoughts that were trying to run a marathon through his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every other member of the house was still sleeping;  he had been awake long before this moment. If Draco was smart he would try to go back to sleep. There wasn’t really anything that he could do to keep busy. All the tasks that needed to be accomplished before going to King’s Cross Station he had completed last night when he had been unable to settle. Maybe he should not have done that because now all that was left to do was fidget.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe he should go make himself something for breakfast or at least put on a pot of coffee. The others would be grateful when they woke up if he did the latter. Instead he just sat there trying not to think about the past or wonder about the future. Long ago Draco had thought that there were only good things to come. What a bloody fool he had been.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hearing her footfalls across the wooden floor before he saw her, Draco turned to face Fleur who was standing in the doorway. Her pale blonde hair was braided back tightly and out of her face her clear and crisp blue eyes were warm. She was dressed in loose comfortable clothing, a pair of white shorts and a dark tank top that left her shoulders bare.  It likely had to do with not wanting  her wings to tear the clothing that she wore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound of her foot tapping against the floorboards filled his ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Fleur muttered, when she saw him grimace. “I swear it will get easier with time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t everything?” Draco asked, trying to force one of his typical smirks, knowing that there was a good chance he was failing. “Though that doesn’t make it any better in this instant, now does it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laughing she said, “That’s the sense of humor that surely came from spending too much time around Snape.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have been told actually that I got my sense of humor from my mother.” He stood up, brushing his hands over his trouser legs trying to get off bits of grime that were not actually there. “But I would bet anything that she is too worried about offending you to allow you to experience it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know I actually believe you on that; however, I also had the pleasure of meeting your cousin Sirius Black,” Fleur remarked. “But you didn’t, did you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No I did not. He was blasted off the family tree long before I was born for various </span>
  <em>
    <span>crimes</span>
  </em>
  <span> the family thought he committed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think he deserved it?” she asked, as they stepped out of his room walking into the hallway. “Do you think that being a member of a house at Hogwarts besides Slytherin makes you a bad person?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco’s own toes smacked against the wooden floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Long ago I did, but honestly looking back with the knowledge of an adult? I don’t think so. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. I still wouldn't want to be a Hufflepuff, but that’s just due to the fact I rather despise the colour yellow. But, I have also never claimed I was anything but a Slytherin. I still take pride in my family, my House, and all those who came before me. However not in the same way I used to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they crossed through the sitting room, Fleur muttered, “Always a charmer, aren’t you? And I agree with you, Draco, you are a Slytherin to the very core and there is nothing wrong with that, but you also </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> remember the good and the bad when you think of such things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I try to be,” he laughed, for a long time finding amusement in the whole situation instead of the bitter pain he usually felt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Together they walked out of the back door and into the light of the morning. The sun's rays were  reflecting off the clear blue ocean which looked as if it had been painted by the maker’s hand. The beauty of it was like a balm to his soul, reminding Draco that he was in fact still alive. They stood on the back deck, taking in every detail. He turned to face Fleur, watching as the light breeze caught her fringe which had slipped out of her braid </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is Victoire okay?” Draco asked. “Are you sure she’ll be okay without you? If you need to get back to her I can fly by myself, I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She is being taken care of by her father,” Fleur said, smiling softly at him. “Bill is the oldest of his family, I don’t know if you know that, but he has quite a bit of experience taking care of babies. Now stop trying to get out of this...I don’t know if you know this, my mother taught me when I was younger that the best way for a Veela to know that another is doing well is to fly with them. So, shall we?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We shall.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was this sharp twisted feeling in his back, followed by the pressing, and lastly  it felt as if a bowstring had been let go of Draco felt it then, his large white wings flaring out from his shoulder blades sticking out behind him as they wrapped around him like a cloak. His claws were easier, slipping out quickly from the tips of his fingers. Fleur was doing the same but unlike him she groaned sharply in pain. He understood - she had not transformed in a rather long time; due to her pregnancy and then later her need to take care of her daughter. A moment later they both were taking to the sky. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Merlin, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Draco thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How could anyone who had never experienced this truly know what it felt like to fly? There was not anything else like this on this earth.’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the clouds above them and the waves gently coming across the sand below them they were truly free. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur turned to face him, her face lit up brightly with joy and a smile that reached her blue eyes. Their wings flapped in unison as if they were nothing more than a flock of birds. Draco then turned away and ignored her, taking in the details of the world around him. There were birds  flying in a flock near them, as soon as they saw them the creatures veered sharply to the left to get away from them as quickly as they possibly could. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘What do they think of us? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>do they wonder what we are? Do they wonder what we think just as we wonder what they think?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Long ago, his father would have mocked such thoughts, even if the man tended to his peacocks like some men tended to their prized horses. He sometimes even downright babied them. Soon though if not already his father would be gone. He would be leaving the country of his birth, leaving all he had ever known, along with his family behind him. At least for a short while. His mother would join her husband next year and Draco had considered doing the same. Their wishes be damned, it was his life after all, not theirs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Would his father feel as if it too was a wound that still bled at times? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Draco questioned in his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or would the man be as he always was? Someone who might as well have been made of stone, without much emotion at all; or would he be like he had been for the short while at the end of the war wearing his heart on his sleeve?’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It did not matter, not really, what was done was done and there was nothing that he could do about it. Something strange caught Draco’s eye. Something that he had not seen before in all of his flights during the time that he had spent at Shell Cottage... Dolphins. A pod of them, at least ten of them possibly more, were playing in the surf. Their dorsal fins were sticking sharply out of the water. And then, just before he told Fleur about them, a young one leapt out of the water, it's dark coloured body as alien as anything that Draco had ever seen. It was beautiful, though  as strange as it was to him.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something simply just unheard off the coast of Wales and another reason he loved getting to be a part of nature, truly a part of it. They were no humans invading a space where they should not dwell, but creatures just as much a part of it as anything had ever been. Growing up he had never seen such a thing and he felt blessed to have had now. There were magical zoos and circuses, but they did not have Muggle animals in them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In what seemed like a lifetime ago, Millicent had talked about the Muggle zoos and aquariums that her mother had taken her to. She had learned about them from her mother, who might have been a Muggleborn. Though no one really ever wanted to talk about that. Millie went on about how they kept all sorts of creatures in tanks and cages. How sometimes they made them do these strange sorts of tricks. Maybe it was better to grow up fully wizarding and never have to think about such things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking back, Draco had to think about how unkind they had been to the girl. How they made fun of her for the distant Muggle blood from relatives that she had never met. Looking back was far harder than viewing the present or even the future. In the past he could see now that he had been an utter git. Draco knew now that he was no more a Pureblood wizard than Millicent Bulstrode had been a Pureblood witch. She had Muggle blood and he had creature blood; in the end was there truly any difference between the two?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Black family motto was “always pure” and that was where his Veela heritage came from. At least one person in a generation became one and in doing so reminded the family that they were not as </span>
  <em>
    <span>pure</span>
  </em>
  <span> as they liked to claim. Setting those wretched ideas aside, Draco allowed himself to get lost in the sights of the ocean below him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A penny for your thoughts?” Fleur asked him, laughing as she did so. “That pod of Dolphins was beautiful, weren’t they? I have only seen them off this coast a handful of times and they are such a treat!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Draco said, though he was not really paying attention to her. He was far too lost in his own thoughts and far too busy staring at the water. There was nothing to look at even though he wished there was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And when we get back I am going to stick pins in Bill’s pillow so he gets stuck by them tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah that sounds good…” He murmured. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t listening to me, are you?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Draco, what’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything, and nothing at all at the same time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can recommend someone that you can talk to if you would like…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sighing he asked rather mournfully, “What good would that do?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur turned to face him, her white-blonde eyebrows shooting up, “It would help you process what has happened and what you have been through. There is nothing wrong with reaching out for help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> a bloody mind healer,” Draco growled. “I don’t need someone trying to pick apart my mind as if it is merely an open book. Once things settle down I will be back to normal, just like everyone else is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was lying, to her but mostly to himself with every single word that he spoke. However, the worst part was that Draco himself had started to believe it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She reached out for him, her fingers brushing against his pale thin wrist. Draco yanked his wrist out of her grasp, hissing as he did so. He turned back towards the shore without another word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Fleur muttered under her breath. “Everything is perfectly fine, along with it the sky is green, and you Brits actually have a better political system than anywhere else in the world.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ignored her, fingers going to his blond hair as made his way back to the shore, wings flapping lightly in the wind. Draco let himself wonder for a moment that maybe Fleur was right, but then he shoved those thoughts aside abruptly. It wasn’t true, he was not crazy, his mind could not be the problem, the situation he was in was. If things were different then everything wouldn’t be so messed up. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>be so bloody broken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco landed, his feet meeting the cold sand before he tumbled to ground landing in a pile of long limbs. He let out a grumble, cursing under his breath. He slammed his fist into the sand at the sheer frustration of it all. This was not the life he had wanted or had asked for. This was something that felt as if it was nothing more than a bad dream- or at least he wished it was. The truth slithered through his mind like a snake across the floor. Draco knew he needed help, but that didn’t mean he was ready to do anything about it, at least not yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur landed next to him, soft on her feet with a strong and controlled motion that came from years of practice. “Come on,” she muttered, holding out her hand for him. “I am sorry I was rude earlier. I will make us breakfast and you will eat it: you have a long day ahead of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco bit back a snarky comment and clasped her hand, allowing her to help him up, smiling at her as he teased, “Only if you make me a fry up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you promise to eat it I will make you that greasy crap that you claim is food.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will,” he said, trying not to smile at her as they walked back to the cottage. “But don’t try and claim you don’t like it too, you eat it every time Bill makes it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughed, her head turned up to the sky, “Because it’s the only thing my husband can make that is not burned to a crisp. And because it makes him happy when I do. Now come, stop wasting time and pull your wings in, Draco. Then go take a shower, and I will make breakfast.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He did as he was told, his wings and claws folding themselves back into his body. It felt wrong to do it, as if he had wrapped himself tightly in a bandage he should not be wearing. Everything was simply utterly too tight, but that was just the way it was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco tried not to think about what was to come, not about Hogwarts, the train, and facing those who might see him as nothing more than a Death Eater. As someone who should still be behind bars, or worse, that the world would be a better place if he no longer existed. He reached his room, one that he didn’t feel like he could truly claim and yet he would miss when he shut the door for the final time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shell Cottage was not home, not in any way, shape, or form, yet a part of Draco wished that it could be. He stripped and then dressed in the clothing he had set out the night before. They were comfortable and one of the few things that he was able to keep from his old life, a life that he missed with a yearning that he could not even begin to put to words, even if he wanted to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However there was a baby to make silly faces at and Bill to tell one more of his stupid stories. There was Fleur to fuss at him, there was more to try and remind him about the life he still had to live, even if it did not look exactly as Draco had planned all those years ago. It might even be better that it wasn't, as much as he didn’t want to admit that. He put one foot in front of the other, stepping out into the hall and making his way to the kitchen, the smell of bacon already filling his nostrils. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe it would be okay, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Draco thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe just maybe the rest of the wizarding world wanted to move on just as much as he did. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘He could only hope that, couldn’t he? Hope, however, could be just as powerful as any other type of magic, couldn’t it?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco sat down at the kitchen table and Fleur sat a rather full plate before him. She did not comment on the fact he did not take a shower. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go get the pitcher of pumpkin juice,” she said, shoving him. “It really isn’t my job to wait on you hand and foot, now is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it isn’t,” he murmured, standing up to go fetch the pitcher. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he was doing so Bill and his mother sat down at the table. Narcissa had Victoire on her hip and was cooing at the baby. They seemed so happy, as if nothing could ever touch them even though it wasn’t true. Draco thought it was nice to think about something just like that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walked back over and asked the other members of the house, “Would you like some?” holding the pitcher up as he did so. They nodded and he poured it for them, along with a glass for himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur took her own seat and they all got lost in their breakfasts and conversation. This is what safety felt like and Draco was sad that he might not have this again for a rather long time. To think he was getting along with some of the Weasleys, even if one was by marriage. Maybe they were not so bad after all; not that he would ever tell anyone - not even them - that. Draco did still have a reputation to keep up after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world could stop spinning in this instant and he would be fine, but time and life didn’t work like that, now did it?</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco sat in one of the compartments by himself staring out of the window. Maybe it was for the best that he was alone. Pansy had come back this year as had Theo and Blaise, but none of them were marked Death Eaters, even if they had been loyal to the cause itself. Goyle on the other hand had not come back. He was like Draco: a former Death Eater. In his case, like their fathers, he was still in Azkaban. There were whispers of a pardon for some those who were young, but it seemed they would not come to pass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no difference between him and the other man. He was the person who had nearly murdered Albus Dumbledore, though Draco knew that he could not have gone through with it. Even with his and his family’s lives on the line. He was many things but a killer was not one of them. Some people would love to stick that label on him much to his own displeasure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a sharp knock on the compartment door, snapping him out of his thoughts. He could not tell who she was, but he had a feeling on who it might be. Her long curls hung in her face, her skin a warm tone, and she was dressed in a blue jumper and jeans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She opened the door, sticking her head in and asked, “Can I come in? The rest of the compartments are full.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” he said. “It’s not like I need it all to myself, now do I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stepped in, sitting down across from him ,pulling her long messy hair out her face. Her scent hit him like a ton of bricks, nearly knocking him back in the bench’s cushion. She smelled like flowers, herbs, andrain.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No...It couldn’t be Granger,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She was not some random person, some woman living somewhere else who might be able to accept him as what he was now and not who he was then… It was someone who he had spent all of their school years being so utterly cruel to. Someone who had broken his nose, someone who he had called that name, someone who his aunt had tortured while he stood by and did nothing.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I...I’m sorry,” Draco said to his shoes, unwilling to look at the girl before him. “I don't know what I could say to make it better but I'm sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “I never thought I would live to see the day you would apologize for anything, Malfoy,” Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest. “So that’s a start at least.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione Granger was beautiful, she likely had always been beautiful, but he he had been too dumb and blind to see it. Foolishness it had been, total and utter stupidity. She was looking up at him, warm brown eyes framed with long lashes, her small upturned nose, the light freckles that covered her cheeks, and a small smile on her lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reached down digging into the bag that was at his feet and pulled out a book, “What’s so funny?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Nothing, nothing’s funny,” she said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then why do you look like you’re about to burst out laughing?” His body went rigid. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Did she only come here into this compartment to mock him? Was that what this was about? Did Weasley dare her?’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hair on the back of his neck stood up on end at the very idea of it. It was something that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> would have done long ago when he actually had friends, when people actually cared about what he thought, and people weren’t spitting in his face. Which was what Goyle had done the last time that he had seen him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she growled, “Want to know what I was smiling at, Malfoy? I was smiling at </span><em><span>you</span></em><span>.</span> <span>I guess for some weird reason I thought you had changed over the summer. But I was being ridiculous to even think that I guess.”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess I should be going then,” she spat, grabbing her things and standing up. “I might have to sit on Ginny’s lap in the other compartment, but it seems your ego is taking up this one.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, you don’t,” he said, reaching out for her. “Please, don’t go, Hermione.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her first name was strange on his lips, but it felt right. It felt like a song that he had been born to sing, as weird as it might seem to think such a thing. Maybe there was just something in the air that was causing him to think that way. Or some foolish bit of his creature nature. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, it’s Hermione now?” She asked, letting go of the knob but still not turning around to face him. “Malfoy, what in Merlin's name has gotten into you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a rather long story.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione turned and took her seat in front of him once more, turning to look out the window as she said, “Well it seems we both have the time, don’t we? A whole train ride to Hogwarts.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>If she was his mate she needed to know this, didn’t she?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Draco thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The ball was in her court on what Hermione was going to do about this in the end. Would she ever be able to look at someone like him as someone who she could have a life with?’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was a creature, a former Death Eater, and a trans man. A life with him would not be like one with Ronald Weasley. It would not be a bad one, at least that was something that Bill and Fleur had taught him. His life didn’t have to be like the one Bellatrix had lived. But, it didn’t change the fact it would be different than the one Draco had planned for himself. It was also surely different than the one Hermione had planned for herself as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It might be better </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tell her about this. It might be better to run from her and forget that this conversation had ever happened. But she was looking up at him now, her eyes open and kind. Maybe she would be able to understand this. He just had to let her in... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco’s heart was in his throat, beads of sweat gathering at his forehead. Thinking about saying it and </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> saying it were two very different things. He had never actually spoken these words to anyone besides his parents. Pansy had guessed his secret all those years ago, well one of them at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had in-depth conversations with Fleur about the other part of him, about being a Veela and it didn't touch on this. Because she knew about it. There was no way to hide the fact he was a trans man to someone who understood what Veelas were. Fleur, his mentor, friend, or whatever he wanted to call her had told him that telling your mate was the hardest part. But Bill had some understanding of creatures. He had worked with the Goblins, but also living in Egypt - a wizarding world that was not so close minded as the English one was -  had made him more open minded than many others might be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione might understand it as well, she was the bookworm, the researcher, the insufferable little-know-it-all. If he did not tell her about this he would never know if she could or not. The truth was your mate did not have to love you, but if this woman was his mate he would spend the rest of his life loving her. Bellatrix, his aunt came to mind and how her mate never truly could love her and what instability it had led to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Shifting around in his seat Draco gathered his courage and finally said the words that would either bring him comfort or misery. “What do you know about Veelas?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not all that much,” Hermione said, tucking a curl behind her ear. “I have read a few books on them for light reading though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Of course she had, but then again hadn’t he fallen down the library hole about Sirens at one point? Dragons? And then Basilisks after that horrible year when one had stalked the halls of Hogwarts. Maybe they weren’t that different after all.’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know that it runs in families?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She crossed one leg over the other. “I do and I also know it runs mostly in older wizarding families. So, what does this have to do with me?  I am surely not a Veela, I don’t think it’s even possible for a Muggleborn to be one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not, unless the person was not actually a Muggleborn,” he muttered, rubbing his fingers back and forth, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin, he wanted a cigarette. Something to settle his nerves and calm him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was not an option at least not now, that was a great way to get sent straight home. “But that’s besides the point. I’m sorry, I seem to be running around like a niffler with my head cut off and not getting straight to the point.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Draco, I would know if I sprouted black or white wings from my bloody back,” Hermione laughed. “So is someone you know one or something? Because I‘m betting you, them or their family knows more about this than I do. But, if there’s no one else who can, I would like to try to help them at least.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s...not a friend of mine…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But, then what are you talking about? I don’t understand what you are getting at or what this long story is or what it even means...” She was clearly confused, her eyebrows pinching tightly and her teeth sinking down into her lip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s me, I’m the Veela,” Draco said, into his hands that were covering his face. “Merlin, why is this so bloody hard?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione grabbed onto his hands pulling them down gently from covering his face, “What’s so hard? I didn’t hear you the first time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shallowing hard he spoke again, “I am a Veela.” His hands shook as he spoke. He was terrified, bloody terrified. Would she run? Would she laugh? Would she find it funny? Would she laugh at him and go find Weasley and say what hilarious thing Malfoy had told her?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How? I didn’t think it was possible for men to be one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am a man,” Draco pleaded, tears falling down his face. He barely even knew why he was crying. “It’s just this stupid thing that happened...I don’t even know how to explain it. I was born in the wrong body. I’ve known I was a boy for as long as I could remember. It was a fact to me just as anything had ever been, but it wasn’t what my outside was...My outside didn’t match my insides and thankfully my parents accepted it. I don’t know what would have happened if they didn’t, but I wasn’t as lucky in other aspects...I am an oddity, a strange thing, an oxymoron of sorts. Just as my mind and body have done for my whole life they have been pulling against each other. But unlike it did before there is no potion that I can take to fix this as much I wished there was.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione stared at him, her brown eyes sharp and questioning as if she was putting all the pieces together. It might have been better if she ran away and yet she did not. Granger it seemed wasn’t one to run, but what had happened in the manor had already shown him that. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am stuck like this: Veela and the man. I have to learn to live in the space between the two. And you it seems are my mate, if you don’t want this, whatever this is, whatever it could become or what it might be is in your hands. I know you might still hate me and to be honest? I would deserve it. I would deserve every bloody bit of it and I would not blame you if you did.”    </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I knew someone like you, Draco,” Hermione said softly as she reached out for him, clasping one of his hands in her own. “Well a transgender woman, not a Veela. She was a friend of my mum’s back at university. Aunt Amy I called her. No you aren’t going to send me running because of this. I might not understand it exactly, at least not what you have been through, but I want to try. If you will let me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s the right thing to do,” she murmured.  “Because when I was a little girl my mum told me you’ve got to accept people for who they are even if they are different than you. And also? Because no one would pretend to be transgender, there is no reason to. It’s something that’s hard and makes you different from everyone else, but not in a fun way either.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He added, “I think that you might be my mate and I don’t expect you to accept that. I would understand if you wanted to run away from me and not look back. You are who you are and I am who I am, the war left us on different sides, but here I am asking you to look before you leap. To move on and accept you are tied to someone like me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyebrows knitted together and her face softened though she didn’t answer him. She allowed him to continue with what he was saying.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How did I never see how wonderful you were, Hermione Granger?” Draco asked, not expecting an answer. “How could I have been so stupid?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could see himself all those years ago, the child who threw temper tantrums when he didn’t get what he wanted. The one who had been raised to believe that anyone who was of a different blood status than him was a horrible person. The one who thought his father was the greatest man who had ever lived and would ever live. What a fool young Draco Malfoy had been, and yet he still felt like he hadn’t yet reached the top of the mountain. He knew change was a long and hard process. But, the first step was knowing that you needed to start climbing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s thumb gently rubbed against the back of his hand, soothing gentle circles that sent shivers up and down his back. Draco knew it as he lived and breathed that she was his mate. That she would be the person that he would love all the days of his life and he only hoped that one day she might return those feelings. That maybe, just maybe, she would fall in love with him. He could only hope that, couldn’t he? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t want to think about the stories he had read all those years ago in his mother’s library, the ones about the Veelas whose mates didn’t love them. The ones who turned away from them and wanted nothing to do with them. How it had shattered them and how they were never able to pick up the pieces. When he thought about it months ago he had thought they were just silly stories, foolish ones to tell children as bedtimes stories to tell them to be good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, simply being around her? Draco knew it to be true. She didn’t have to be in love with him and he would never ask Hermione to stay around him if she wasn’t. Fleur had told him having a mate meant that you would be willing to do anything for them, even leaving them if they asked you to. Your own heart and soul be damned. Their feelings mattered far more than your own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had confided in him about what Molly Weasley had said to her after Bill had been attacked, questioning if Fleur would leave him. How the </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>suggestion of such a thing had felt like ripping out her own heart and bloody stomping on it. Draco understood that now, as surely as he lived and breathed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione reached over, tipping up his chin gently, her fingers sending sparks along his skin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wasn’t the one who had ensnared her, as some of those foolish legends believed, but she had him. If she told him to jump out the train window? He would at least have to consider it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled at him, a real and true smile that reached her eyes, “On the subject of us being mates? Well I am okay with giving it a chance. I want to give this a try, but I can’t promise anything. You understand that?”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” he whispered, and then he said more firmly, “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione let his face go and then they spent the rest of the train ride in silence, but for once in a long time it was comfortable. Draco tried to read his book, though instead he found himself watching her. Hermione actually did read though she might just be better at pretending than he was. He enjoyed watching her though. Becoming ever slightly slightly smitten with how she smiled when she read something really interesting and the way she fidgeted every so often. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Merlin,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is going to be a long bloody train ride.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But there were far worse things than being stuck in a compartment with his mate, wasn’t there?  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>“Constructive Reviews Welcome” <br/>The author of this story accepts reviews/comments of people who simply enjoy their work, of course. But they are also happy to read and consider a thoughtful review of the work, even if it includes constructive criticism.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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